


Holding On

by ReinaQueenofDemons



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bathing/Washing, Caring Eskel, Crying, Fever, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Procedures, Needles, Pain, Restraints, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Trial Of The Grasses (The Witcher), Trials, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:28:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26949754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReinaQueenofDemons/pseuds/ReinaQueenofDemons
Summary: Geralt tends to Lambert on his second night with the Trial of the Grasses.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert
Comments: 18
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is no underage in this fic. Lambert is 18 and Geralt is in his twenties.

Geralt opened his eyes and stared into the darkness of his room. He had heard something, faintly but now it seemed all was still. He started to close his eyes again when he heard it. The sounds of someone sobbing. He sighed, recognizing it was Lambert. Lambert was the strongest of the 10 newest boys to take the Trials, now through their second day. Vesemir had said during dinner that they'd already lost 4 and only Lambert seemed strong enough to survive. He wondered if the others had died yet. 

Lamberts cries seemed to get louder and with a sigh Geralt sat up. He knew the Trials were painful and there wasnt much to be done except suffer through them or succumb. Across the room Eskel was asleep, seemingly unperturbed. The crying was continuing, and the young Witcher wondered briefly why Vesemir or one of the mages wasn't up and tending to Lambert. He realized it was probably because one or two of the others had died or was dying.

He sighed again, slipping on his shirt and boots as he got up. He didnt bother with his belt or anything, just wanting to see if he could quickly find Vesemir or someone to tend Lambert. He opened his door and headed up to the next level of the keep, where the medical rooms were. It seemed indeed that some of the others had succombed in the night, but the ward was stiffeningly silent, save Lambert's cries. Vesemir must be out burning the bodies. 

"Lambert?" Geralt muttered, pushing open the door to the room, and stepping inside. The room was lite with candles and he could see Lambert struggling on the table, restraints holding his wrists, chest, thighs and ankles in place against it. The Witcher-to-be still struggled hard against the metal cuffs and leather straps, eyes squeezed such, writhing with the pain that clenched all his muscles.

Geralt set his jaw, going over to the table that held various potions and medical instruments. He remembered his own trials and knew the mages did have strong decoctions that could take the edge off the pain when it was at it's worst. He found a metal syringe already full of a thick red liquid that smelled vaguely of willow bark among other things. He picked it up and went over to the table. "Shh. Lambert, it's Geralt." He ran his finger tips over the boy's forehead. His skin was blanched and sweaty, too warm for a Witcher. Tears streaked Lambert's cheeks and if it wasnt for the belt in his mouth, Geralt was sure he'd have bitten through his lip or tongue.

"This will help." He sat the syringe on the table and unlaced Lambert's trousers so he could pull them down. Lambert hadnt opened his eyes, and he struggled a little harder at the feeling of Geralt's ministrations. "It's going to be okay." Geralt told him, lifting the syringe. He flicked the barrel hard and then lifted Lambert's hip, jabbing the sharp needle into the top of his asscheek. Lambert screamed, muscles tensing around the needle as Geralt pressed the plunger down, forcing the red liquid into the muscle. It took a moment, but it was over quickly and Geralt withdrew the needle, setting it back on the table with the potions. 

"Give that a minute to work." He muttered, rubbing the spot he had jabbed for a moment. His entire body felt inflamed and the Witcher winced in sympathy remembering his own ordeal. Lambert's cries died down and his struggling started to abate. Geralt pulled his trousers up, checked the restraints to make sure they were intact and started to leave, presuming that the boy was going to pass into unconsciousness for awhile.

Instead when he reached the door he heard a pained "G'lt?" He turned and found Lambert struggling to raise his head and chest, looking over at him with a murky gaze. His eyes were not yet fully changed, the gold just beginning to bleed into the irises. Geralt knew that the process for that was agony in itself, and that Lambert's vision was blurry and swimming. Still for him to know that it was Geralt in the room meant that his other senses were beginning to enhance. A good sign. 

"Hey." He walked back over to the table and placed a hand on the Witcher's shoulder, coaxing him down against the pillow. He took the belt out of Lambert's mouth in case he wanted to speak. 

"What...mmm...I-" Lambert shifted his hips and grunted, not liking the restraints. He gave Geralt a weary look.

"Don't try to move so much." Geralt told him, rubbing his shoulder. "The stuff I gave you should dull the pain for a bit. Try to sleep." 

"What day?" The new Witcher asked weakly. 

"Second. One or two more to go." 

Lambert scoffed harshly, letting his head roll to the side, against the pillow. "I cant see shit." He muttered. He was still shifting uncomfortably, but it was clear the pain was far less than it had been minutes before. "Geralt..." He said after a moment. 

"Yeah Lambert?" He was starting for the door again but stopped, waiting for him to continue. 

"My uh ass of all things hurts." He turned his head toward Geralt.

"It's just where the painkiller went in. It will go away soon." 

"No...it...it hurts..." He shifted his pelvis to emphasis what he meant. "Inside." 

Geralt winced sympathically, knowing what he meant. "Yeah...uh...its the Trials...makes us...sterile." Lambert grunted, shifting his hips again. Geralt remembered something that had helped with that particular hurt. He went back over to the table and looked through the supplies. "I uh...I remember something that helped with that. It's um...uncomfortable though." He glanced back at Lambert who scoffed derisively. "Yeah..." Geralt smirked, understanding.

He quickly made a cold paste and brought it over to the table. "I'm going to loosen the restraints on your thighs." He warned. "Close your eyes and try to meditate through this, Lambert." The new Witcher nodded. He squeezed his eyes shut. Geralt undid the leather straps over Lambert's thighs and loosened the ankle chains so there was some give. He pulled Lambert's trousers down to his ankles and pressed his knees up, spreading them apart. "Promise I'm not staring at your dick." Geralt snickered, just to lighten the mood. Lambert snorted but didnt say anything. His muscles were lax now, the painkiller doing it's work. 

"This will be cold." Geralt warned, dipping his finger into the paste. "Though with your fever it will probably feel pretty good." He reached between Lambert's legs and spread his arsecheeks apart, sticking his finger between them. Lambert sucked his breath in sharply tensing for a moment but then relaxing as Geralt slid his finger in. He worked the paste inside as he moved his finger deeper. 

"Ow." Lambert hissed softly, when Geralt's finger hit the sensative gland inside him. 

"Sorry. That's the cause of the discomfort." Geralt told him. He rubbed some of the paste on before withdrawing his finger and dipping two in. "Can you handle a second finger?" 

"Jus do it." Lambert muttered, eyes still closed.

Geralt stuck both fingers inside, pressing gently against the rim until he could fit both inside. His walls were burning up, channel flaming hot like the rest of him, melting the paate and making it slick. Geralt decided he was going to sponge him down after this ordeal. He touched Lambert's prostate with both fingers, coating it with the paste and then stilling his fingers inside for a moment. "You alright?" He could feel the gland twitch. 

"Balls hurt." Lambert muttered, opening his eyes slightly and looking down at Geralt. "If my dick wasnt sore I'd...ya know." 

Geralt smirked. "You will, first couple days out are a little rough. Thankfully being sterile doesnt damage our stamina." He rubbed small circles into the gland, just to make Lambert twitched and buck his hips a little. "Feeling better?" 

"Numb." The new Witcher replied. 

"Yeah." Geralt patted his thigh and carefully pulled his fingers out. "I gotta trus you back up and then I'm gonna sponge you down a bit. Whenever Vesemir gets in here I want him to check on your fever." 

"Mmm. He's burying the unlucky ones, aint he?" Lambert opened his eyes fully, grunting a little as Geralt pulled his trousers back up and started tying his thighs back down. 

"Yeah." Geralt replied, wiping off his hands and getting a basin. He poured water into it, almost heated it with Igni but forgot that he needed it cold to sooth the fever. He picked up a rag and turned back to Lambert. "Think you might be the only one." He dipped the rag in and sponged off his forehead. 

"Hmm." Lambert closed his eyes again. "How long does this pain shot last, again?"

"Couple hours. You can have another one at dawn." Geralt wiped down his face and neck. "If you want." 

"Will you do it? Before you go off and train with Eskel and leave me at the mercy of the Mages?" Lambert's voice was soft. He looked up at Geralt the best he could through muddled gaze. "They dont...have your...touch." 

Geralt snickered. "You're...my brother now." He said after a moment. "My job is to take care of you." He dipped the rag again and laid it on Lambert's forehead. "Go to sleep." The new Witcher nodded and closed his eyes. Geralt set the bowl aside, checked him over and looked at the door. He looked at Lambert again and pulled out a chair, setting himself down and leaning back against the wall. He could keep watch for awhile. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Vesemir, the pup is too warm." Geralt muttered, rubbing his eyes to wake himself when he heard the old wolf enter the room. Dawn was just beginning to rise, sending slits of daylight into the room via the small window above. 

Vesemir raised an eyebrow at Geralt's presence as he went over to the table to examine Lambert. The Wolf pup was awake but barely, stirring only momentarily at Vesemir's presence and refusing to open his eyes until Vesemir grabbed his jaw and forced his eyes open. He cried out in pain. Geralt hissed, tensing. The cry of his brother ignited his protective nature, and he had to resist lashing out that the one who would dare harm him, even if it was Vesemir. "You're right, he's burning with fever. His eyes are almost fully mutated though." Vesemir turned to the table beside him. "He must go through the trial today." 

"A good sign." Geralt allowed. If his eyes took the mutation, it was an almost sure sign the young Witcher-to-be would live. He got up from his chair and walked over to the table. "Could the Mages do something for the fever before they start the last trial? At least make him more comfortable." He didnt touch the wolf pup but he moved within reach. The fever burning through Lambert could still kill him before the Trials finished. 

Vesemir chuckled softly. "There isn't much to be done, wolf, you know that." Geralt tensed and Vesemir raised an eyebrow. "Why so attached?" 

"He's the only one of this batch who might live." Geralt replied quickly. He didnt add that he already saw the wolf pup as his brother.

"Hmm." Vesemir replied. "I'll go get the Mage and have him start the potions for the last trial." The old wolf poured more water into the bowl on the table. "Sponge him down, relieve his pain if you can. Encourage him to meditate or sleep." He nodded and Vesemir left the room. 

Geralt grabbed the bowl filled it with water. He stuck a finger in to test the temperature. It was tepid, but it would suit. He brought it over to the table and set it aside. "Lambert?" He asked softly. The wolf pup opened his eyes in narrow slits. "Hey. You lived through the night." He dipped a rag into the bowl and placed it on his forehead. Lambert moaned quietly. "I know. Your fever's risen. I'm going to try to bring it down so you can finish the Trials." Lambert closed his eyes again, his breathing was still too rapid for a Witcher. Geralt slowed his own breathing to listen for Lambert's heartbeat. Slower by a fraction but too fast for a Witcher still. He sponged off Lambert's forehead and then moved down to his neck. He eyed the leather restraints that bound the pup tightly to the table for a moment. "Let's loosen some of these." He unbuckled the strap across Lambert's chest and the ones over his thighs. 

Lambert moans softly, shifting, back arching in pain as he struggles to get comfortable. "G'lt." He mutters behind the leather belt in his mouth. Geralt nods and takes the leather out. Lambert moans again. This time he opens his eyes and Geralt can see how yellow the irises have turned in just the last few hours. Even the weak light is too much for the newborn eyes and Lambert immediately snaps them shut again. His heartbeat hammers loud and still too fast in his chest. 

"Let me sponge you down, pup." Geralt mutters. He lifts Lambert's shirt, the black fabric is sticky and drenched with sweat, and underneath it his skin is pale and hot. Lambert hisses at the touch of the rag, not because it's too cold but because his skin is beyond sensitive. It burns and stings and prickles and he wants to slice it all off. Geralt works as quickly but diligently as he can across the pup's chest and then presses against his side, lifting him slightly so he can wipe down his back. 

"Geralt." Lambert moans again. Eyes still squeezed shut. "Gonna hurl." He warns. Geralt immediately grabs for an empty bucket and slides it under his chin. Lambert vomits black bile into the bucket, begins coughing and sputtering. Geralt slips a hand under his neck and raises him up so that he doesn't choke and he vomits again. The Witcher hesistants for a moment and then unlocks the shackles holding Lambert's arms and wrists so that he can heave him up into a sitting position. Lambert grabs the bucket with both hands and vomits a third time. 

"Eskel!" Geralt yells into empty hallway, knowing his brother is near. Eskel appears at the door a few moments later. "Get a clean set of clothes and some colder water." He directs. 

Eskel nods, but hesistants as he watches Lambert collapse against Geralt. "He gonna live?" Both Witchers pause and listen for Lambert's heartbeat. It has slowed another fraction since he vomited.

Geralt nods decisively, holding Lambert up with a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders. "The only one who will." 

Eskel nods. "Be right back." 

Geralt dips the rag and wipes the bile off Lambert's mouth and chin. "You're gonna get through this." He promises. 

"Let's get you out of these clothes." Eskel mutters briskly as he returns with a clean set. He and Geralt work the drenched shirt off of Lambert, Geralt holding him steady against his chest. Lambert moans and whinges, but at least he hasn't been sobbing. Eskel drips a rag in the icy water he's retrieved from the bucket outside and mops across Lambert's back and shoulders. Pale skin turns only icy pink instead of deep red, another good sign that the mutations are working their minstrations on Lambert's body. Geralt takes a rag and washes a new layer of sweat and grime from Lambert's neck, chest and under his arms. His own shirt gets damp in process as he supports the newborn wolf against his chest, but he pays no heed. 

"G'lt?" Lambert opens his eyes and whimpers. Geralt gestures for the shirt and puts it over Lambert's head, dressing him in it quickly before laying the newborn Witcher back down. He dips the rag and places it on his forehead. The water is so cold that the rag is now stiff and near frozen, but it melts on contact with Lambert's skin. Geralt can barely hear his heatbeat now. It's slowed again. Half as fast as a normal man's. 

"Shh." He rubs the boy's shoulders as Eskel replaces the shackles at his wrists. Lambert tenses, howls a little when Eskel undoes the laces on his trousers but Geralt holds his shoulders and shushes him again. "He's just cleaning you up." Eskel unlocks the shackles around Lambert's ankles and strips him of the trousers. Geralt re-wets the rag with ice water and sponges Lambert's face and neck to distract him from Eskel's messy washing of his lower regions. Eskel washes in large swaths, scrubbing away Lambert's sweat and piss as quickly as possible. 

"Pain shot?" Eskel asks Geralt as he shoves Lambert's legs into the clean trousers. He pulls them up but leaves the lacing undone. 

"Get it ready." Geralt feels Lambert's forehead and his face with the back of his hand. He relaxes when he feels the wolf pup's temperature drop and stablize much lower. "He's cooling down." His heart beat has slowed another fraction. Geralt has to hold his breath to count the beats. 

Eskel nods. He crosses over to the table and picks up the syringe. It looks bigger to Geralt than it had last night, as he tries to ignore the terrible glint of sunlight on steel and the way the droplets of thick red potion trickle out of the end of the needle like blood when Eskel flicks the barrel. Instead he focuses tying the chest strap back down, and feeding leather into Lambert's mouth. Eskel eases Lambert's trousers down over one pale hip and grabs a handful of flesh at the top of his arse. Lambert whines when the needle goes in, clenching his jaw around the leather. Geralt rubs firmly at his shoulder even as he holds him still against the table. Eskel pulls the needle free and lets the syringe clatter unto the table behind him. "Rest now, pup." He mutters, adjusting Lambert's trousers and lacing them closed. He pats the wolf's hip, and then helps Geralt tighten the leather restraints across his thighs.

Lambert's head finally drops against the thin pillow, his muscles going lax as the potion courses through his body. He opens his eyes briefly as the last bit of color bleeds out of his irises, leaving them golden and gleaming. He squeezes them shut again as tears suddenly roll down his face. Geralt brushes them away with his thumb, and then rubs his shoulders and his chest. "Try to sleep, pup." He chides softly. "Not much longer, now. You'll start feeling better once the last trial works it way through." He feels Lambert's forehead with the back of his hand, making sure his temperature stays down. His skin is cold now, pale as death. Eskel pulls up a stool and leans against the wall, watching Geralt knowingly. They both hold their breathes and begin counting heartbeats. Nearly...nearly 4 times slower. There's nothing more they can do for their brother but wait. 


	3. Chapter 3

Eskel had excused himself when Vesemir returned with the Mages, but Geralt stayed. He kept his composure as he watched his brother, trussed and bound, be stabbed with hollow needles and tubes, potions flowing freely into his veins and what wouldnt go into his blood, poured down his throat instead. He had to keep his composure because he felt Vesemir's eyes on him as if daring him to step out of line...to yell and scream...to tell them to stop...to force them away from his baby brother...to protect him from the agony of the last trial. 

Lambert screamed himself mute. Tears rolled freely down his face. He thrashed hard, newly hardened muscle threatening to break the restraints. Geralt was forced to hold him down through one particularly bad fit while the mages poured more portions down his throat and into his veins. Newborn Witcher eyes bled from burst capillaries. At one point he vomited all over himself...and the mage who was pouring a potion down his throat. Geralt tucked that scene away to amuse his brother when the bullshit was over and done with. For now he watched as Lambert's veins slowly turned black. The last of the potions ran through and when the needles were removed his blood ran dark and thick. His stomach rolled but he did not look away. 

"That's the end of it, then? He's had it all?" Geralt asked Vesemir quietly as he watched the Mages clear away empty vials. 

"Yes. If he lives through the night, the after effects will diminish by morning. By tomorrow night he'll be eatting, and on his feet by week's end." Vesemir patted his shoulder. "I'll leave you to see him through the night, wolf." Geralt nodded, relieved when the Mages finally left. 

Lambert was still sobbing when Geralt approached him. He had destroyed his voice and his throat was raw. Blackened blood was still sluggishly pulsing from his arms. Fucking mages couldnt even bandage a small wound. Geralt grabbed clean bandages and wrapped Lambert's forearms. He brewed tea with honey and mint and chamomile to try and sooth him. He managed to get the pup to drink some of it. "You're not quite strong enough for Swallow." He rubbed Lambert's shoulder after he set the bowl aside. "Another day or two and you will be. That will put you back on your feet." Lambert made a derisive noise and then started coughing. Geralt undid the chest strap and unlocked the shackles on his wrists so he could haul him up and rub his back. Black droplets sprayed from Lambert's mouth and he retched against Geralt's shoulder. "You're ok." The Witcher muttered, continuing to rub his back. 

Lambert went limp in his grip and Geralt cursed. He dropped his brother back down unto the table and redid the restraints. Gentle fingers prodded Lambert's throat. His pulse was there, just slow, slow enough for a Witcher. He checked under the bandages, relieved to find the wounds had sealed courtesy of Lambert's newly acquired quick healing. He could possibly tolerate Swallow, but Geralt didn't want to risk it. 

Lambert regained consciousness to find himself laying on his side, or as he soon realized by the scent, Eskel holding him on his side. He could hear Geralt behind him, but his stomach rolling prevented him from looking over. He opened his eyes into slits. "Esk...gonna...gonna..." He tried to warn. Luckily Eskel got the gist and shoved a bowl under his chin so he could puke into it. He moaned softly as more black bile rose from his stomach and burned his throat. Only when Geralt started rubbing his back with something cold did he realize he was naked, only a fur blanket thrown across his dignity. Not that he minded, clothes were too restricting for his overly sensitive skin.

Whatever Geralt was rubbing him down with seemed to sooth his muscles, all of which were on fire. The clentching in his stomach ceased and Eskel took the bowl away. Whatever Geralt was rubbing on his body had a slight tang and bite but it wasn't strong enough to irritate is his now overly sensitive sense of smell. It warmed as Geralt continue to rub deep, wide circles across his back, pressing his thumbs deep, and left a pleasant numbness in its wake. His muscles began to relax and he dropped his head unto the pillow. "Wha...what's that stuff?" 

Geralt was rubbing his legs now, tight calf muscles relaxing under his vigorous movements. "Marigold and flax seed among other things. Makes a good paste for muscle aches." He moved up to his thighs, kneeding them deeply before moving on to his arse.

Geralt didn't hesitate as he rubbed deep circles into the Witcher's arsecheeks. Lambert whimpered softly as Geralt's thumbs moved closer to his cleft. He opened his eyes and saw Eskel nod. And then Eskel's fingers were brushing into his short hair, his other hand keeping firm pressure on his hip. He whimpered again, remembering the previous night and feeling the familiar ache. "Shh...wolf. Just relax. Try to meditate." Eskel brushed his eyes closed and he tried to do as he suggested, going to that place in his mind that grounded him, but he had been shit at meditating through his training and found himself unable to break through. 

Geralt spread his cheeks and stuck two slick fingers inside him. He whimpered again, and Eskel rubbed soothing circles into his hip and shoulder. "Shh...I know, wolf, I know." Eskel's voice was soft and almost soothing despite the pressure of Geralt's fingers moving deep inside him. His fingers soon found what they were searching for and he began rubbing his prostate with firm pressure. Lambert cried out when he felt the swollen gland give a little.

Eskel wrapped a slick hand around Lambert's dick and was now jerking him off. "That's it, wolf. Your body needs this." Geralt urged. He pressed a little harder on his prostate and Lambert groaned. The release hurt, everything too sore and too sensitive. Eskel milked him through it and then Geralt slowly pulled his fingers out and both brothers were cleaning him up. Despite the soreness he realized he did feel better. The ache in his ass and bollocks was relieved and that helped relax more of his muscles. Still he groaned as Eskel slipped him back into his clothes. He didnt like the feeling against his skin and he figured the restraints would come next and he really hated those now. The pain had decreased to more of an annoying ache that wouldnt allow him comfort.

"Tired." He muttered, letting his head drop into the pillow again. "Hurts still." Geralt was fiddling with something behind him and he groaned when he realized what it was. "No." He protested as best he could as Eskel rolled him back unto his side and held him down. "Don't need that." 

"Yes you do." Geralt muttered pulling his trousers down under his ass. "You'll sleep better with this." The needle went in and he winced at the sting. Another deep ache, but it was followed by blessed numbness. This time the darkness took him right down without a fight. He was out before Eskel even had the restraints back on him. 

When he came to, he saw Vesemir looking down on him. The old wolf gave him something of a smile and then nodded. Geralt and Eskel undid all the restraints and this time they pulled him up, slinging his arms over their shoulders. "You just graduated to a bed, little brother." Geralt told him. He groaned softly as he was walked out of the torture-medical-whatever chamber and down the hall to the room Geralt and Eskel shared. 

There was a third bed in the room now, set up against the wall between Geralt and Eskel's. It wasn't much but it was soft and warm. He was sat upon it while his brothers stripped him of his clothes and then he was laying down as Eskel put soft furs over him. "Warm enough little brother?" Eskel asked and he nodded. 

"Good. No fever." Geralt rested a cool hand on his cheek. "Go back to sleep." He moved to leave but Lambert reached out and grabbed his shirt. 

"Stay with me?" He watched the expression on Geralt's face soft. He looked to Eskel and then back at him before nodding. He sat down on the bed and pulled him close, letting him use his chest as pillow. "Esk too." He muttered before he shut his eyes. He heard both brothers laugh softly before Eskel slipped into bed behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist. "Thank you." Is what he meant to say before he drifted back down, really it was, but what passed his lips as sleep took him was a simple "Love you." 


End file.
